


To Serve Beneath the King

by Doitsuki



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Death, Gen, Servants, Torture, headcanons, it's a little confronting perhaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just an informative piece of writing intended to speak of my headcanons regarding Galion and Dalion, two elves who served Oropher and Thranduil during the Second Age in the Greenwood. Headcanon information. This is not proper fiction. Dalion is an OC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Serve Beneath the King

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I might put some of my headcanons here. It's kind of like a story. Please do not flame me if you disagree with my interpretation of certain characters.  
> For a deeper understanding of my characterisation of Oropher, see here: doitsuki.tumblr.com/HouseOfOropher  
> I am still developing things.

~On Galion and Dalion, servants of the Sindar Kings ~  
  
Galion came from a lowborn family, thus being named similarly to his father who was Dalion, servant of Thingol. Dalion considered himself most noble of all the serving folk, and taught his son the ways of independence and politeness when it came to being the best butler a King could ask for. After the War of Wrath, Dalion took his son and a few helpless Nandor to follow Oropher, who was to lead the Silvan in a realm of his own. Dalion was ever-faithful despite his new King's horrendous temper, and quite often took a beating for reasons he could barely comprehend. Nonetheless, he strove for excellence in all his work. He was strong, he could heal, and was stubborn in the face of defeat.   
  
Galion had been very young at a hundred years of age and serving Thranduil, the Prince of the Woodland Realm. So close were they that a friendship deeper than any love had developed, as was common for elflings who spent time in each other's company. Galion looked after Thranduil in line with his father's teachings, serving to the best of his ability and catering to the Prince's every whim. Soon enough Thranduil was spoilt enough to be sent away for straightening out in the far kingdom of Lindon, at Oropher's behest in hopes Thranduil would return a mature and proper elf. Galion pined for his master, his little Lord, his best friend. It was centuries later that Thranduil returned, with the body of an adult but heart of a child. All elves were like children in some way, with great love for their world and an innocent view of reality should they choose to turn away from the dark side of the world. Galion and Thranduil were reunited, while Oropher and Dalion's relationship frayed.   
  
Dalion's health had begun to suffer as a result of his mistreatment by Oropher, and though he was a reasonable thousand years it was becoming difficult for him to take life as the proud, exciting thing it had been. He took to drinking as there was always wine available to dull his senses, having grown lonely and miserable in the centuries he'd served his King. Galion, who had adored him now spent time attached to Thranduil, following him around as if magically possessed. The other servants looked up to him but did not really respect him, as he never defended himself (like anyone _could_ against Oropher!) nor spoke to the King about the wellbeing of the lower folk. Oropher was selfish, cruel and cold with everyone except Thranduil. Galion stayed out of his way, and Dalion worked himself to near death. Alas, he was an immortal creature. He could not die from fatigue.   
  
After five hundred years, Dalion unconsciously began to avoid Oropher. He came when he was called, but no longer waited around for his King's voice. He was frightened, terribly so of the silken hiss that came from long white hair falling past thick robes, the telltale sign Oropher was around and had noticed something that may or may not provoke a reaction. Oh, and Oropher knew. He relished in it, calling Dalion a spineless coward whose head would be more useful as a drinking cup than thinking place since he was never around when Oropher wanted. Dalion could do little more than lower his head further than it was already hung, and reply with a quivering "Yes, your Majesty."  
  
A thousand years past that, and the Greenwood was as it always had been. Thranduil took to sparring with Galion as they trained in weapons, while Dalion lived the same life he always had. One night he sat in the cellars with Breldas, the young dungeonmaster who cared more for violence and chitchat than keeping things in order. Dalion had been meant to bring some wine to an elf above him for some purpose or another, but was persuaded by Breldas to crack it open and share in the sweet taste those of their status did not deserve. The wine was meant for the table of Kings and Princes, Lords and Ladies yet there the two elves sat, Nandor and Silvan telling tales of the world and letting time slip by. It was the most free Dalion had felt in a long time, since he had come into the service of the House of Oropher.   
  
Watching them was Nelien, a spiteful elleth and the youngest of her three sisters who always got the worst outcome handed to her in life. She envied them for their free speech and open happiness, being one to fight her hardest to rise in the guard ranks but never being promoted, not once. And so she turned on her heel and walked to the servant's quarters, informing those who weren't busy of the laziness of their supposed head butler. She thought they should choose someone better suited to serve the King in their ranks, someone who would not drink with shady folk like Breldas.   
  
Word of Dalion's lapse in propriety reached Oropher's knowledge like wildfire.    
  
 _"Dalion!" Oropher called, his voice a controlled roar that echoed through the stone halls "Come hither. Your insufferable presence is required."_  
 _His servant arrived within a minute, head cast down with a grey tinge to his soft brown hair. Dalion did not speak, nor raise his eyes to his King. Instead he waited, patiently and with respect. Oropher sneered at the sight, grabbing the pitiful elf by his ear as if he would cut it off, a tradition reserved for Orcs killing those superior to them. Dalion had no clue why the random bit of knowledge came to him - something he'd read in a book no doubt, always having considered Oropher to be the least elven elf he'd ever laid eyes upon. The king was like a sharp blade dripping with innocent's blood, hungry for more yet laying in a field of flowers who turned their petals away._  
  
 _Dalion blinked wearily as he was roughly sat down upon a wooden chair, ear released and the swish of fabric to his left indicating Oropher had moved to observe him from a distance. Gently Dalion raised two fingers to the reddened point of his ear in hopes of healing the pained cartilage, but his hand was smacked away with enough force to throw his whole arm back and aside. Mournfully he looked up at his King, deep honeyed brown eyes having faded to a dull grey many centuries ago. Oropher sat himself down without a word, arms folded across his broad chest and emerald green robes rippling to the floor. They were opposite each other now and as Dalion took in their surroundings, he blinked. Was he not here yesterday?_  
  
 _Oropher seemed to think the same._  
 _"Seem familiar?" he snarled, immediately aggressive in manner of position and voice. "I heard about your slack behaviour last night. Drinking wine meant for the King's table, taking a guard from his work, and speaking slander of my name." And then he laughed, low and dark with a twinkle in his gaze. "You know what that means, don't you?"_  
  
 _Dalion blinked again, slowly as if not understanding. He was terribly hungover and could barely see, his sensitive body aching in all the places he wished it wouldn't. He peered at Oropher, many thoughts going through his mind. He hadn't known who or what the wine was specifically for. He couldn't differentiate qualities as all the drinks in the palace were better than anything he'd ever tasted. He'd been drunk, speaking his mind of what he really thought about Oropher. Ah, now he understood. He was screwed._  
  
 _"My King, I am deeply sorry..." he began, expressing grief for his own fate and eyes straining to see clearly "If there is anything I can do at all to spare my wretched life.."_  
 _"Oh stop with the self pity." said Oropher in disgust, reaching down beside him to draw a bottle of fine wine up from the ground. He placed it upon the table and uncorked it, before taking a glass from a rack nearby. "I would merely like to congratulate you on the merits of your free speech." He made a show of pouring the wine, his balanced hand filling the glass to the brim before pushing it towards Dalion. Confused and afraid, Dalion was sure he was going mad. Had Oropher just done something for him, intending to - no, he could not comprehend this. It made absolutely no sense to Dalion's tired mind._  
  
 _He reached hesitantly for the glass, though would not do anything with it unless commanded. He understood the subtle gesture to take it and did so, drawing it closer to himself before looking to Oropher. Now Oropher was trailing his index fingertip around the rim of the wine bottle, and there was something black staining his hand. Dalion tilted his head to the side, and stared as Oropher's hand came away from the wine bottle and flicked a fine powder into the full glass. It dissolved instantly, and Dalion barely glanced quickly enough to see an image of a skull fade into the dark red depths. Slow horror bloomed across his face like a bloodied flower opening to the call of night. Oropher smiled._  
 _"Drink."_

_Dalion's eyes widened ever so slightly, his whole body struck by fear. Shakily he gripped the stem of the glass and brought it up to his lips, looking from the wine to his King. His eyes begged for mercy, yet his mouth would not speak. Oropher did not have to ask him again. Dalion took a sip and found the taste rather unpleasant, the poison bitterly dominating the wine's sweetness. A few sips later and he began to feel a tightness in his chest, like fire contracting his lungs. By the time he had finished the glass he was gasping for breath, and pushed it away from him... only to hear the pouring of wine and see Oropher refill it._  
  
 _"Just a little more." said Oropher with an evil grin "Surely you will not fall from just one glass? You drank a whole bottle yesterday."_  
 _Dalion began trembling, an intense pain shooting through every limb he moved, dissolving his flesh from the inside._  
 _"Please.." he gasped, but said nothing further. Oropher merely raised an eyebrow and looked amused - so many expressions were crossing his face today, it was truly a rare sight. The last Dalion would ever see._  
  
 _The wine spilled as Dalion tried to drink, and he coughed out half of what he attempted to swallow along with thin, salty blood. He groaned in agony and curled into himself, for he did not want Oropher to see him weep in pain. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? To have Dalion completely and utterly destroyed, and take an emotionlessly sadistic delight in it all._  
  
 _Dalion did not see his life flash before his eyes, and began to mourn for the loss of hope that a better life may one day find his immortal soul._  
  
 _He could not remember the last time he had spoken to his son, barely could he recall the faces of those close to him as they had been driven away by the King's isolation of his plaything servant. Suddenly he was sobbing dryly, chest heaving for breaths that would not come. He wanted to hold his son in his arms once more and tell him that he loved him. That no matter who Galion served, worked for, or befriended... his father would always be there to guide and protect as best he could. Their family motto was 'success through endurance'. And yet Dalion had failed it all. He could not cling to his life any longer, not for hope of love, acceptance, praise or rest. Here, he met his end._  
  
 _He died with an aching heart, no breath nor voice from his stiff blue lips. Dalion's head hit the table with an audible crack, the poison splintering apart his rapidly deteriorating bones. And he faded in time, body no longer attached to his soul which fled to the halls of Mandos as if impatient to be removed from the tortures of Middle-Earth._   
  
Fëa could not be destroyed, a thing made by Illuvatar himself with the power of life everlasting deep within. But when that of Dalion was brought to be judged, it was seen as a soul beyond all repair. Elven hearts were not meant to be twisted so, to be left alone and broken without any hope of redemption at all. And so its conscience was extinguished, to a peaceful shade of blue cast into the sky to join all the other stars, high and sparkling where those at rest for eternity belonged.   
  
~  
  
Galion had wept for his father, and was comforted by Thranduil who knew not how the older butler had come to his end. Nobody knew but Oropher, and the day after Galion had learnt of his father's death he was told by the King himself of Dalion's fate. Horrified and traumatised by the graphic description (no smirks were omitted) Galion's perception of the King changed forever. Where resentment would be born in six thousand years, fear and sadness grew. Galion remained ever loyal to Thranduil, and Oropher though there was not much contact between them. Galion didn't need to be threatened to know that if he ever hurt Thranduil, he would suffer much worse than his father. He didn't know the extent of Dalion's torment. So he could not really judge. Still, he was careful. Quiet. Respectful. _Professional._

 

He always strove to make Thranduil happy above all else, and when the time came he did the same for Legolas whose joy directly translated to his father's heart. Always would he love Thranduil, eternally serving his needs. Legolas was an extension of this - but was only attended to for appreciation in Thranduil's eyes. Galion did befriend Legolas and comfort him when his mother and grandfather died - in those moments where Thranduil was absent, and would not let anyone near him.   
  
Galion had become obsessed. And was doomed to live as such, until the end of all time.

 

 


End file.
